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The Flower And The Leaf: Or, The Lady In The Arbour.[1]

by John Dryden

A VISION.

Now turning from the wintry signs, the sun,

His course exalted, through the Ram had run,

And whirling up the skies, his chariot drove

Through Taurus, and the lightsome realms of love;

Where Venus from her orb descends in showers,

To glad the ground, and paint the fields with flowers:

When first the tender blades of grass appear,

And buds, that yet the blast of Eurus fear,

Stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year:

Till gentle heat, and soft repeated rains,

Make the green blood to dance within their veins:

Then, at their call, embolden'd out they come,

And swell the gems, and burst the narrow room;

Broader and broader yet, their blooms display,

Salute the welcome sun, and entertain the day.

Then from their breathing souls the sweets repair

To scent the skies, and purge the unwholesome air:

Joy spreads the heart, and, with a general song,

Spring issues out, and leads the jolly months along.

In that sweet season, as in bed I lay,

And sought in sleep to pass the night away,

I turn'd my weary side, but still in vain,

Though full of youthful health, and void of pain:

Cares I had none, to keep me from my rest,

For love had never enter'd in my breast;

I wanted nothing fortune could supply,

Nor did she slumber till that hour deny.

I wonder'd then, but after found it true,

Much joy had dried away the balmy dew:

Seas would be pools, without the brushing air

To curl the waves; and sure some little care

Should weary nature so, to make her want repair.

When Chanticleer the second watch had sung,

Scorning the scorner sleep, from bed I sprung;

And dressing, by the moon, in loose array,

Pass'd out in open air, preventing day,

And sought a goodly grove, as fancy led my way.

Straight as a line in beauteous order stood

Of oaks unshorn a venerable wood;

Fresh was the grass beneath, and every tree,

At distance planted in a due degree,

Their branching arms in air with equal space

Stretch'd to their neighbours with a long embrace:

And the new leaves on every bough were seen,

Some ruddy colour'd, some of lighter green.

The painted birds, companions of the spring,

Hopping from spray to spray, were heard to sing.

Both eyes and ears received a like delight,

Enchanting music, and a charming sight.

On Philomel I fix'd my whole desire,

And listen'd for the queen of all the quire;

Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to sing;

And wanted yet an omen to the spring.

Attending long in vain, I took the way

Which through a path but scarcely printed lay;

In narrow mazes oft it seem'd to meet,

And look'd as lightly press'd by fairy feet.

Wandering I walk'd alone, for still methought

To some strange end so strange a path was wrought:

At last it led me where an arbour stood,

The sacred receptacle of the wood:

This place unmark'd, though oft I walk'd the green,

In all my progress I had never seen:

And seized at once with wonder and delight,

Gazed all around me, new to the transporting sight.

'Twas bench'd with turf, and goodly to be seen,

The thick young grass arose in fresher green:

The mound was newly made, no sight could pass

Betwixt the nice partitions of the grass,

The well-united sods so closely lay;

And all around the shades defended it from day;

For sycamores with eglantine were spread,

A hedge about the sides, a covering overhead.

And so the fragrant brier was wove between,

The sycamore and flowers were mixed with green,

That nature seem'd to vary the delight,

And satisfied at once the smell and sight.

The master workman of the bower was known

Through fairy-lands, and built for Oberon;

Who twining leaves with such proportion drew,

They rose by measure, and by rule they grew;

No mortal tongue can half the beauty tell;

For none but hands divine could work so well.

Both roof and sides were like a parlour made,

A soft recess, and a cool summer shade;

The hedge was set so thick, no foreign eye

The persons placed within it could espy;

But all that pass'd without with ease was seen,

As if nor fence nor tree was placed between.

'Twas border'd with a field; and some was plain

With grass, and some was sow'd with rising grain.

That (now the dew with spangles deck'd the ground)

A sweeter spot of earth was never found.

I look'd, and look'd, and still with new delight;

Such joy my soul, such pleasures fill'd my sight;

And the fresh eglantine exhaled a breath,

Whose odours were of power to raise from death.

Nor sullen discontent, nor anxious care,

Even though brought thither, could inhabit there:

But thence they fled as from their mortal foe;

For this sweet place could only pleasure know.

Thus as I mused, I cast aside my eye,

And saw a medlar-tree was planted nigh.

The spreading branches made a goodly show,

And full of opening blooms was every bough:

A goldfinch there I saw, with gaudy pride

Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from side to side,

Still pecking as she pass'd; and still she drew

The sweets from every flower, and suck'd the dew:

Sufficed at length, she warbled in her throat,

And tuned her voice to many a merry note,

But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear,

Yet such as soothed my soul, and pleased my ear.

Her short performance was no sooner tried,

When she I sought, the nightingale, replied:

So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung,

That the grove echoed, and the valleys rung;

And I so ravish'd with her heavenly note,

I stood entranced, and had no room for thought,

But all o'er-power'd with ecstasy of bliss,

Was in a pleasing dream of paradise.

At length I waked, and looking round the bower,

Search'd every tree, and pry'd on every flower,

If any where by chance I might espy

The rural poet of the melody;

For still methought she sung not far away:

At last I found her on a laurel spray.

Close by my side she sat, and fair in sight,

Full in a line, against her opposite;

Where stood with eglantine the laurel twined;

And both their native sweets were well conjoin'd.

On the green bank I sat, and listen'd long;

(Sitting was more convenient for the song):

Nor till her lay was ended could I move,

But wish'd to dwell for ever in the grove.

Only methought the time too swiftly pass'd,

And every note I fear'd would be the last.

My sight and smell, and hearing were employ'd,

And all three senses in full gust enjoy'd.

And what alone did all the rest surpass,

The sweet possession of the fairy place;

Single, and conscious to myself alone

Of pleasures to the excluded world unknown:

Pleasures which nowhere else were to be found,

And all Elysium in a spot of ground.

Thus while I sat intent to see and hear,

And drew perfumes of more than vital air,

All suddenly I heard the approaching sound

Of vocal music on the enchanted ground:

A host of saints it seem'd, so full the quire;

As if the bless'd above did all conspire

To join their voices, and neglect the lyre.

At length there issued from the grove behind

A fair assembly of the female kind:

A train less fair, as ancient fathers tell,

Seduced the sons of heaven to rebel.

I pass their form, and every charming grace,

Less than an angel would their worth debase:

But their attire, like liveries of a kind,

All rich and rare, is fresh within my mind.

In velvet white as snow the troop was gown'd,

The seams with sparkling emeralds set around;

Their hoods and sleeves the same; and purfled o'er

With diamonds, pearls, and all the shining store

Of eastern pomp: their long descending train,

With rubies edged, and sapphires, swept the plain:

High on their heads, with jewels richly set,

Each lady wore a radiant coronet.

Beneath the circles, all the quire was graced

With chaplets green on their fair foreheads placed:

Of laurel some, of woodbine many more;

And wreaths of Agnus castus[2] others bore;

These last, who with those virgin crowns were dress'd,

Appear'd in higher honour than the rest.

They danced around: but in the midst was seen

A lady of a more majestic mien;

By stature, and by beauty mark'd their sovereign queen

She in the midst began with sober grace;

Her servants' eyes were fix'd upon her face;

And as she moved or turn'd, her motions view'd,

Her measures kept, and step by step pursued.

Methought she trod the ground with greater grace,

With more of godhead shining in her face;

And as in beauty she surpass'd the quire,

So, nobler than the rest, was her attire.

A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,

Plain without pomp, and rich without a show:

A branch of Agnus castus in her hand

She bore aloft (her sceptre of command);

Admired, adored by all the circling crowd,

For wheresoe'er she turn'd her face, they bow'd:

And as she danced, a roundelay she sung,

In honour of the laurel, ever young:

She raised her voice on high, and sung so clear,

The fawns came scudding from the groves to hear:

And all the bending forest lent an ear.

At every close she made, the attending throng

Replied, and bore the burden of the song:

So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,

It seem'd the music melted in the throat.

Thus dancing on, and singing as they danced,

They to the middle of the mead advanced,

Till round my arbour a new ring they made,

And footed it about the sacred shade.

O'erjoy'd to see the jolly troops so near,

But somewhat awed, I shook with holy fear;

Yet not so much, but what I noted well

Who did the most in song or dance excel.

Not long I had observed, when from afar

I heard a sudden symphony of war;

The neighing coursers, and the soldiers cry,

And sounding trumps, that seem'd to tear the sky:

I saw soon after this, behind the grove

From whence the ladies did in order move,

Come issuing out in arms a warrior train,

That like a deluge pour'd upon the plain;

On barbed steeds they rode in proud array,

Thick as the college of the bees in May,

When swarming o'er the dusky fields they fly,

New to the flowers, and intercept the sky,

So fierce they drove, their coursers were so fleet,

That the turf trembled underneath their feet.

To tell their costly furniture were long,

The summer's day would end before the song:

To purchase but the tenth of all their store,

Would make the mighty Persian monarch poor.

Yet what I can, I will; before the rest

The trumpets issued, in white mantles dress'd,

A numerous troop, and all their heads around

With chaplets green of cerrial-oak[3] were crown'd,

And at each trumpet was a banner bound;

Which, waving in the wind, displayed at large

Their master's coat of arms, and knightly charge.

Broad were the banners, and of snowy hue,

A purer web the silk-worm never drew.

The chief about their necks the scutcheons wore,

With orient pearls and jewels powder'd o'er:

Broad were their collars too, and every one

Was set about with many a costly stone.

Next these, of kings-at-arms a goodly train

In proud array came prancing o'er the plain:

Their cloaks were cloth of silver mix'd with gold,

And garlands green around their temples roll'd:

Rich crowns were on their royal scutcheons placed,

With sapphires, diamonds, and with rubies graced:

And as the trumpets their appearance made,

So these in habits were alike array'd;

But with a pace more sober, and more slow;

And twenty, rank in rank, they rode a-row.

The pursuivants came next, in number more;

And, like the heralds, each his scutcheon bore:

Clad in white velvet all their troop they led,

With each an oaken chaplet on his head.

Nine royal knights in equal rank succeed,

Each warrior mounted on a fiery steed;

In golden armour glorious to behold;

The rivets of their arms were nail'd with gold.

Their surcoats of white ermine fur were made;

With cloth of gold between, that cast a glittering shade.

The trappings of their steeds were of the same;

The golden fringe even set the ground on flame,

And drew a precious trail: a crown divine

Of laurel did about their temples twine.

Three henchmen were for every knight assign'd,

All in rich livery clad, and of a kind;

White velvet, but unshorn, for cloaks they wore,

And each within his hand a truncheon bore:

The foremost held a helm of rare device;

A prince's ransom would not pay the price.

The second bore the buckler of his knight,

The third of cornel-wood a spear upright,

Headed with piercing steel, and polish'd bright.

Like to their lords their equipage was seen,

And all their foreheads crown'd with garlands green.

And after these came, arm'd with spear and shield,

A host so great as cover'd all the field:

And all their foreheads, like the knights before,

With laurels ever-green were shaded o'er,

Or oak, or other leaves of lasting kind,

Tenacious of the stem, and firm against the wind.

Some in their hands, beside the lance and shield,

The boughs of woodbine, or of hawthorn held,

Or branches for their mystic emblems took,

Of palm, of laurel, and of cerrial-oak.

Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty sound,

Drawn in two lines adverse they wheel'd around,

And in the middle meadow took their ground.

Among themselves the tourney they divide,

In equal squadrons ranged on either side.

Then turn'd their horses' heads, and man to man,

And steed to steed opposed, the jousts began.

They lightly set their lances in the rest,

And, at the sign, against each other press'd:

They met. I sitting at my ease beheld

The mix'd events, and fortunes of the field.

Some broke their spears, some tumbled horse and man,

And round the field the lighten'd coursers ran.

An hour and more, like tides, in equal sway

They rush'd, and won by turns, and lost the day:

At length the nine (who still together held)

Their fainting foes to shameful flight compell'd,

And with resistless force o'er-ran the field.

Thus, to their fame, when finish'd was the fight,

The victors from their lofty steeds alight:

Like them dismounted all the warlike train,

And two by two proceeded o'er the plain,

Till to the fair assembly they advanced,

Who near the secret arbour sung and danced.

The ladies left their measures at the sight,

To meet the chiefs returning from the fight,

And each with open arms embraced her chosen knight.

Amid the plain a spreading laurel stood,

The grace and ornament of all the wood:

That pleasing shade they sought, a soft retreat

From sudden April showers, a shelter from the heat:

Her leafy arms with such extent were spread.

So near the clouds was her aspiring head,

That hosts of birds, that wing the liquid air,

Perch'd in the boughs, had nightly lodging there:

And flocks of sheep beneath the shade from far

Might hear the rattling hail, and wintry war;

From heaven's inclemency here found retreat,

Enjoy'd the cool, and shunn'd the scorching heat:

A hundred knights might there at ease abide;

And every knight a lady by his side:

The trunk itself such odours did bequeath,

That a Moluccan[4] breeze to these was common breath.

The lords and ladies here, approaching, paid

Their homage, with a low obeisance made;

And seem'd to venerate the sacred shade.

These rites perform'd, their pleasures they pursue,

With song of love, and mix with measures new;

Around the holy tree their dance they frame,

And every champion leads his chosen dame.

I cast my sight upon the farther field,

And a fresh object of delight beheld:

For from the region of the West I heard

New music sound, and a new troop appear'd;

Of knights and ladies mix'd, a jolly band,

But all on foot they march'd, and hand in hand.

The ladies dress'd in rich symars were seen

Of Florence satin, flower'd with white and green,

And for a shade betwixt the bloomy gridelin.

The borders of their petticoats below

Were guarded thick with rubies on a row;

And every damsel wore upon her head

Of flowers a garland blended white and red.

Attired in mantles all the knights were seen,

That gratified the view with cheerful green:

Their chaplets of their ladies' colours were,

Composed of white and red, to shade their shining hair.

Before the merry troop the minstrels play'd;

All in their masters' liveries were array'd,

And clad in green, and on their temples wore

The chaplets white and red their ladies bore.

Their instruments were various in their kind,

Some for the bow, and some for breathing wind;

The sawtry, pipe, and hautboy's noisy band,

And the soft lute trembling beneath the touching hand.

A tuft of daisies on a flowery lea

They saw, and thitherward they bent their way;

To this both knights and dames their homage made,

And due obeisance to the daisy paid.

And then the band of flutes began to play,

To which a lady sung a virelay:[5]

And still at every close she would repeat

The burden of the song, The daisy is so sweet,

The daisy is so sweet: when she begun,

The troop of knights and dames continued on.

The concert and the voice so charm'd my ear,

And soothed my soul, that it was heaven to hear.

But soon their pleasure pass'd: at noon of day

The sun with sultry beams began to play:

Not Sirius shoots a fiercer flame from high,

When with his poisonous breath he blasts the sky:

Then droop'd the fading flowers (their beauty fled)

And closed their sickly eyes, and hung the head;

And rivell'd up with heat, lay dying in their bed.

The ladies gasp'd, and scarcely could respire;

The breath they drew, no longer air but fire;

The fainty knights were scorch'd, and knew not where

To run for shelter, for no shade was near;

And after this the gathering clouds amain

Pour'd down a storm of rattling hail and rain;

And lightning flash'd betwixt: the field, and flowers,

Burnt up before, were buried in the showers.

The ladies and the knights, no shelter nigh,

Bare to the weather and the wintry sky,

Were drooping wet, disconsolate, and wan,

And through their thin array received the rain;

While those in white, protected by the tree,

Saw pass in vain the assault, and stood from danger free;

But as compassion moved their gentle minds,

When ceased the storm, and silent were the winds,

Displeased at what, not suffering they had seen,

They went to cheer the faction of the green.

The queen in white array, before her band,

Saluting, took her rival by the hand;

So did the knights and dames, with courtly grace,

And with behaviour sweet their foes embrace;

Then thus the queen with laurel on her brow--

Fair sister, I have suffer'd in your woe;

Nor shall be wanting aught within my power

For your relief in my refreshing bower.

That other answer'd with a lowly look,

And soon the gracious invitation took:

For ill at ease both she and all her train

The scorching sun had borne, and beating rain.

Like courtesy was used by all in white,

Each dame a dame received, and every knight a knight.

The laurel champions with their swords invade

The neighbouring forests, where the jousts were made,

And serewood from the rotten hedges took,

And seeds of latent fire, from flints provoke:

A cheerful blaze arose, and by the fire

They warm'd their frozen feet, and dried their wet attire.

Refresh'd with heat, the ladies sought around

For virtuous herbs, which, gather'd from the ground,

They squeezed the juice, and cooling ointment made,

Which on their sun-burnt cheeks, and their chapt skins they laid: 420

Then sought green salads, which they bade them eat,

A sovereign remedy for inward heat.

The Lady of the Leaf ordain'd a feast,

And made the Lady of the Flower her guest:

When, lo! a bower ascended on the plain,

With sudden seats ordain'd, and large for either train.

This bower was near my pleasant arbour placed,

That I could hear and see whatever pass'd:

The ladies sat with each a knight between,

Distinguish'd by their colours, white and green;

The vanquish'd party with the victors join'd,

Nor wanted sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind.

Meantime the minstrels play'd on either side,

Vain of their art, and for the mastery vied:

The sweet contention lasted for an hour,

And reach'd my secret arbour from the bower.

The sun was set; and Vesper, to supply

His absent beams, had lighted up the sky.

When Philomel, officious all the day

To sing the service of the ensuing May,

Fled from her laurel shade, and wing'd her flight

Directly to the queen array'd in white:

And, hopping, sat familiar on her hand,

A new musician, and increased the band.

The goldfinch, who, to shun the scalding heat,

Had changed the medlar for a safer seat,

And hid in bushes 'scaped the bitter shower,

Now perch'd upon the Lady of the Flower;

And either songster holding out their throats,

And folding up their wings, renew'd their notes:

As if all day, precluding to the fight,

They only had rehearsed, to sing by night.

The banquet ended, and the battle done,

They danced by star-light and the friendly moon:

And when they were to part, the laureate queen

Supplied with steeds the lady of the green,

Her and her train conducting on the way,

The moon to follow, and avoid the day.

This when I saw, inquisitive to know

The secret moral of the mystic show,

I started from my shade, in hopes to find

Some nymph to satisfy my longing mind:

And as my fair adventure fell, I found

A lady all in white, with laurel crown'd,

Who closed the rear, and softly paced along,

Repeating to herself the former song.

With due respect my body I inclined,

As to some being of superior kind,

And made my court according to the day,

Wishing her queen and her a happy May.

Great thanks, my daughter, with a gracious bow,

She said; and I, who much desired to know

Of whence she was, yet fearful how to break

My mind, adventured humbly thus to speak:

Madam, might I presume and not offend,

So may the stars and shining moon attend

Your nightly sports, as you vouchsafe to tell,

What nymphs they were who mortal forms excel,

And what the knights who fought in listed fields so well.

To this the dame replied: Fair daughter, know,

That what you saw was all a fairy show;

And all those airy shapes you now behold,

Were human bodies once, and clothed with earthly mould;

Our souls, not yet prepared for upper light,

Till doomsday wander in the shades of night;

This only holiday of all the year,

We privileged in sunshine may appear:

With songs and dance we celebrate the day,

And with due honours usher in the May.

At other times we reign by night alone,

And posting through the skies pursue the moon;

But when the morn arises, none are found;

For cruel Demogorgon walks the round,

And if he finds a fairy lag in light,

He drives the wretch before, and lashes into night.

All courteous are by kind; and ever proud

With friendly offices to help the good.

In every land we have a larger space

Than what is known to you of mortal race;

Where we with green adorn our fairy bowers,

And even this grove, unseen before, is ours.

Know farther; every lady clothed in white,

And, crown'd with oak and laurel every knight,

Are servants to the Leaf, by liveries known

Of innocence; and I myself am one.

Saw you not her, so graceful to behold,

In white attire, and crown'd with radiant gold?

The sovereign lady of our land is she,

Diana call'd, the Queen of Chastity:

And, for the spotless name of maid she bears,

That Agnus castus in her hand appears;

And all her train, with leafy chaplets crown'd,

Were for unblamed virginity renown'd;

But those the chief and highest in command

Who bear those holy branches in their hand:

The knights adorn'd with laurel crowns are they,

Whom death nor danger ever could dismay,

Victorious names, who made the world obey;

Who, while they lived, in deeds of arms excell'd,

And after death for deities were held.

But those who wear the woodbine on their brow,

Were knights of love, who never broke their vow;

Firm to their plighted faith, and ever free

From fears and fickle chance, and jealousy.

The lords and ladies, who the woodbine bear,

As true as Tristram and Isotta were.

But what are those, said I, the unconquer'd nine,

Who, crown'd with laurel-wreaths, in golden armour shine?

And who the knights in green, and what the train

Of ladies dress'd with daisies on the plain?

Why both the bands in worship disagree,

And some adore the flower, and some the tree?

Just is your suit, fair daughter, said the dame:

Those laurell'd chiefs were men of mighty fame;

Nine worthies were they call'd of different rites,

Three Jews, three Pagans, and three Christian knights.

These, as you see, ride foremost in the field,

As they the foremost rank of honour held,

And all in deeds of chivalry excell'd:

Their temples wreathed with leaves, that still renew;

For deathless laurel is the victor's due:

Who bear the bows were knights in Arthur's reign,

Twelve they, and twelve the peers of Charlemagne:

For bows the strength of brawny arms imply,

Emblems of valour, and of victory.

Behold an order yet of newer date,

Doubling their number, equal in their state;

Our England's ornament, the crown's defence,

In battle brave, protectors of their prince;

Unchanged by fortune, to their sovereign true,

For which their manly legs are bound with blue.

These, of the Garter call'd, of faith unstain'd,

In fighting fields the laurel have obtain'd,

And well repaid the honours which they gain'd.

The laurel wreaths were first by Cesar worn,

And still they Cesar's successors adorn:

One leaf of this is immortality,

And more of worth than all the world can buy.

One doubt remains, said I, the dames in green,

What were their qualities, and who their queen?

Flora commands, said she, those nymphs and knights,

Who lived in slothful ease and loose delights;

Who never acts of honour durst pursue,

The men inglorious knights, the ladies all untrue:

Who, nursed in idleness, and train'd in courts,

Pass'd all their precious hours in plays, and sports,

Till death behind came stalking on, unseen,

And wither'd (like the storm) the freshness of their green.

These, and their mates, enjoy their present hour,

And therefore pay their homage to the Flower:

But knights in knightly deeds should persevere,

And still continue what at first they were;

Continue, and proceed in honour's fair career.

No room for cowardice, or dull delay;

From good to better they should urge their way.

For this with golden spurs the chiefs are graced,

With pointed rowels arm'd to mend their haste;

For this with lasting leaves their brows are bound;

For laurel is the sign of labour crown'd,

Which bears the bitter blast, nor shaken falls to ground:

From winter winds it suffers no decay,

For ever fresh and fair, and every month is May.

Even when the vital sap retreats below,

Even when the hoary head is hid in snow,

The life is in the Leaf, and still between

The fits of falling snow appears the streaky green.

Not so the Flower, which lasts for little space,

A short-lived good, and an uncertain grace;

This way, and that, the feeble stem is driven,

Weak to sustain the storms and injuries of heaven.

Propp'd by the spring, it lifts aloft the head,

But of a sickly beauty, soon to shed;

In summer living, and in winter dead.

For things of tender kind, for pleasure made,

Shoot up with swift increase, and sudden are decay'd.

With humble words, the wisest I could frame,

And proffer'd service, I repaid the dame;

That, of her grace, she gave her maid to know

The secret meaning of this moral show.

And she, to prove what profit I had made

Of mystic truth, in fables first convey'd,

Demanded, till the next returning May,

Whether the Leaf or Flower I would obey?

I chose the Leaf; she smiled with sober cheer,

And wish'd me fair adventure for the year,

And gave me charms and sigils, for defence

Against ill tongues that scandal innocence:

But I, said she, my fellows must pursue,

Already past the plain, and out of view.

We parted thus; I homeward sped my way,

Bewilder'd in the wood till dawn of day;

And met the merry crew who danced about the May.

Then late refresh'd with sleep, I rose to write

The visionary vigils of the night.

Blush, as thou may'st, my little book, with shame,

Nor hope with homely verse to purchase fame;

For such thy maker chose; and so design'd

Thy simple style to suit thy lowly kind.